


Your Heart Would Melt

by bendingsignpost



Series: Tumblr Fic [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Ice Cream, M/M, Post-Break Up, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 08:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15814956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingsignpost/pseuds/bendingsignpost
Summary: On the plus side, Dean's finally hanging out with his hot neighbor.On the very much negative side, he's doing it trapped in an elevator.





	Your Heart Would Melt

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by [procasdeanating](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/) on tumblr: "*trapped in an elevator* for the prompt thing."

Dean hangs up and turns off every app his phone had been running, the better to save his battery. “It might be an hour, maybe two,” he reports to his neighbor. Just the one, fortunately. It’s not that big of an elevator. 

Dressed in a rain-sodden trench coat and slightly dryer suit, the dark-haired man from 12B sighs. The light-haired man from 12B always calls him Cassie, but the dark-haired man always tells him not to. Whatever his name is, he still has two plastic bags clenched tight in each fist. 

“You might want to put those down.”

The man looks at what he’s holding. He looks at Dean with an expression of infinite pain and an equal amount of ire. 

Outside of the elevator, it’d be kinda hot, in a scary way. Trapped in an elevator, it’s kinda scary, in a hot way. “Okay, man, suit yourself.”

“No,” the man says like speech is physically painful. The voice on him, it might be. “These are my groceries.”

“So? If I steal ‘em, it’s not exactly gonna be a long chase.”

“You don’t understand,” the dark-haired man from 12B says. “I have ice cream.”

Never before in the history of the world has that statement been half so mournful. 

“Oh,” Dean says. “Shit.”

“Shit,” the man agrees with a nod. 

  


  


Twenty minutes later, they’ve given in. The trench coat is folded wet-side in, and it’s the closest they’re gonna get to a comfortable seat. 12B’s name is Castiel, and it turns out he is now the only man in 12B, hence the ice cream. 

“I mean, he sounds like a dick,” Dean says through a mouthful of rocky road. With the ice cream this soft, the container lids function as rudimentary spoons. Occasionally, they drink out of the sides of the pint cartons. Occasionally, they swap. Dean’s not normally much for vanilla, in any sense of the word, but it does make a good palate cleanser after chugging too much milky flavor. 

Glowering at his dinner of dessert, Castiel says with all the seriousness of a drunk and all the stiff sobriety of a saltine, “I liked his dick.”

“There are more dicks,” Dean says, because he isn’t good at these conversations while sober. “Way more dicks. There are two dicks in this elevator alone. You’ll be okay.”

“This has been an awful week,” Castiel says. He wipes more sweat away from his forehead. 

“Could be worse. We could be stuck in here without the ice cream.”

“And with him,” Castiel adds. 

“I’ve seen porn that starts like that,” Dean says. He holds Castiel’s eye and makes an exaggerated wink. It still doesn’t get a smile, but Dean’s got few sources of entertainment trapped in this box. 

They finish off the ice cream and sink into a food coma. They are sticky. They lick their fingers and scrub at their own faces. They peel off layer after layer as it grows hotter inside the elevator, but at least that means their seat and the view improves. 

  


  


Rescue comes, involving professionals almost more irate than they are. Finally, Dean and Castiel are released back into the wild.

Meaning, on the 8th floor. 

Suit jacket and trench coat folded over his arm, Castiel starts grabbing up the three remaining bags, the fourth now a trash bag of two empty cartons. Dean grabs the third bag and the trash bag as they set up the stairs with mutual looks of dissatisfaction. 

“I just realized something,” Dean says as they reach the 12th floor landing. “I ate all your shit.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “It’s fine.”

“Nope,” Dean says. “I ate all your shit. Gotta take you out for ice cream now.”

Castiel doesn’t smile, but he very nearly doesn’t frown. 

**Author's Note:**

> To see what else I'm working on, you can follow me on [tumblr here](http://bendingsignpost.tumblr.com/).


End file.
